


Chillin' Like a Villain

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, prompts from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: It’s just, well...it’s not every day that you get the chance to cross paths with your ex-girlfriend who is possibly now a major crime boss.





	Chillin' Like a Villain

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me via a prompt on tumblr from the amazing recordsofme who sent me this prompt and I knew it just had to be done: During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only later do you learn that your high school sweet-heart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a “No Harm” list. You decide to pay them a visit after all these years.
> 
> Also shout-out to Mika because I told you I would use that song as the title. (I just had to)

Daisy looks at herself in the reflection of the glass doors and remembers, once again, why it is that she never does stuff like this. She feels pretty ridiculous in this borrowed blazer and skirt, though Mack assured her that she looked totally fine and completely professional and he was sure that the people at the bank would be equally impressed and give her the loan. At least, he was _pretty_ sure.

Daisy isn’t really feeling all that sure at all. She should have just worn jeans or one of her sundresses and…

You know, screw it. She’s definitely not going to get any type of loan standing in front of the gilded glass doors, debating her appearance with herself. She needs to suck it up and step inside and go for it.

Her heart is in the right place and her motives are pure. Isn’t that what counts when getting a loan from impressive bankers…though maybe that kinda thing just works in Disney movies.

Daisy shakes her head, dragging her eyes away from her reflection and taking a deep breath, pushing open the door. The bank is one of those old, ritzy places with high ceilings, well-polished floors and expensive furniture. The types of things that make it all too easy to imagine giant vaults full of gold and money, though Daisy has no idea if banks even keep money around like that anymore.

There are a few tellers, dressed in remarkable similarity to what Daisy is wearing now and there are over a dozen people in the bank as customers, which is totally ridiculous. Haven’t these people ever heard of an ATM before?

Her appointment isn’t for another fifteen minutes, so Daisy takes her folder and her bag and sits down on one of the plush leather couches across from a woman and her little boy. She smiles at them briefly but her mind is too busy turning over her proposal in her head, trying to remind herself of what she’s going to say and how she’s going to say it. She needs the money to lease a place to turn into a group home for teenage girls so they don’t have to be stuck in the system and really it sounds like a no brainer to her but Daisy is pretty sure she’s going to have to work a little harder than that to get her loan.

Daisy checks the time on her phone, her leg bouncing up and down anxiously, her heel clicking on the floor. The woman with the boy looks mildly annoyed but doesn’t say anything, keeping her focus on the phone in her hand.

She only has twelve minutes and then-

And then, suddenly, it feels like everything is happening all at once, all at the same time.

People are screaming; angry, demanding voices are echoing through the bank; a crack echoes through the air.

Daisy looks over, her mouth falling open in shock. Four people in plastic animal masks are standing there in the middle of the bank, holding guns and bags and ordering everyone to the ground, aside from the tellers, who are being instructed to fill up the aforementioned bags.

Figures. The _one_ day she _actually_ goes into a bank, it gets robbed.

Totally her luck.

One of the masked men turns in her direction, waving his gun, ordering Daisy and the other people around her to the ground. Daisy slips quietly to the floor, her eyes flicking toward the mother, holding her little boy tightly to her as he starts to cry, tears spilling out of his wide, frightened eyes.

Great. Now Daisy _really_ hates these guys.

Another shot rings out and there’s more panicked shouting and the little boy’s crying picks up in earnest, despite his mother’s attempts to soothe him. Not that Daisy figures there’s really much that can be done to make you feel better about the fact that you’re face down on the floor while a bank robbery is taking place.

Clearly this place really does have vaults full of gold and money.

“Hey,” the robber closest to Daisy snaps, turning in their direction. “Keep the kid quiet.”

The sight of a dark-clad, mask-wearing man carrying a gun isn’t exactly the type of thing that is particularly calming. The mother apologizes, cuddling her son closer, but he keeps up his howling, much to the annoyance of the man.

“I said shut him up!” The gun moves toward the trembling woman and her kid.

Daisy is sitting up before she’s even aware of moving, annoyance replacing the fear in her chest. “Hey! He’s just a kid, of course he’s scared!”

And now the gun is pointing at her, which is something Daisy figures she should have thought about before.

“You want to be the hero, lady? Hmmm?” The guy asks, stepping toward her. “Because I really hate heroes-”

Daisy can’t take her eyes off the gun, unable to stop from seriously reconsidering her life choices. All she wanted was a stupid loan. And now she’s about to die in this stupid blazer that isn’t even hers.

“Man, chill out.” One of the other men is hurrying in their direction, grabbing the other guy by the shoulder and pulling him backward. “Put your gun down. Don’t you know who that is?”

There’s a pause, the plastic mask obscuring the face of the man wearing it. But Daisy can still feel him studying her, looking at her closely while she just stays there on her knees with her hands up, feeling like an idiot.

Which really isn’t how she wanted to feel right before her death.

But then the guy is shaking his head, lowering his gun, backing away quickly. “I, uh, sorry.”

Sorry. Totally not the thing Daisy was expecting to hear from the guy who just had a gun pointed at her face.

Not to mention the fact that both the guys are backing up, though they’re afraid of _her_. Like _she’s_ the one going around threatening people with impressively violent weapons.

Daisy can only stare at them, mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

What the hell is going on.

And Daisy is actually tempted to ask these two big men with guns what is happening but she doesn’t get the chance because the doors are banging open once more and this time it’s the police who have the guns and, just like that, Daisy’s first ever bank robbery is over.

Which, you know, is probably a good thing. Especially considering that no one was shot.

Though she _does_ have to reschedule her appointment, which definitely sucks.

Outside, the police ask her a few questions and Daisy neglects to mention the very strange way that the robbers acted when they saw her. She’s not in the mood to answer any more of their questions when she has so many of their own. So she just shrugs, trying to tell the story as best she can while an EMT puts a blanket around her and checks her for signs of shock.

Once the officers and the medics move on, Daisy perches on the edge of the ambulance’s bumper, her eyes scanning the crowd made up of police and shaken bank employees and patrons and curious onlookers and journalists shouting questions. Her eyes settle on one of the police cars, the back door slightly ajar, one of the masked men sitting in the back.

He looks younger than Daisy would have expected, fresh-faced and definitely shocked to find himself sitting in the back of a police car. She recognizes him by his jacket as the one who hurried over and stopped the other guy from shooting her right there in Elena’s dry-clean only blazer.

Daisy glances around quickly before shrugging off the blanket and hurrying over to the back of the car. She’ll probably get into huge trouble for this but, hey, she never was really good at following the rules and curiosity killed the cat and all that.

The guy looks over at her and flinches, looking anxious all over again. “Sorry about that back there,” he grumbles, further continuing the weirdest day of her entire life.

Daisy narrows her eyes. “How do you know me?”

For a second, the guy looks like he’s going to be too afraid to answer, his eyes shifting around like he’s looking for someone. Or maybe like he’s hoping for a distraction of some kind. But nothing happens to save him and exhales, dropping his gaze. “We’ve seen your picture,” he grumbles, “she told us we couldn’t hurt you.”

“Who!” Daisy can’t keep the word from bursting out of her but honestly can you blame her? It’s not every day you get all fancy to beg for a loan and then end up in the middle of a bank robbery run by people who actually know who she is. She’s starting to go a little crazy here. But she feels like she’s entitled. “Who! Who are you talking about!”

The guy exhales, shaking his head. “Simmons.”

“I don’t-” And then Daisy stops because holy shit. She _does_ know someone named Simmons.

Jemma Simmons, to be exact.

And Daisy is pretty sure that if her eyes get any wider they’re going to pop right out of her head.

“Jemma Simmons is a bank robber?” She asks, incredulous.

The guy shrugs. “Well, more like the boss.”

Okay, yeah, Daisy thinks. _That_ makes more sense.

 

* * *

 

If Mack were to find her awake at this hour, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom, he would undoubtedly blame it on the stress of the whole bank robbery situation and Daisy wishes that it were that easy. That would make perfect sense. That would be something people could understand.

But she’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the robbery and everything to do with the fact that Jemma Simmons was somehow behind it.

Daisy hasn’t mentioned any of this to Mack, who actually knew Jemma for a few months at the beginning of college before the whole relationship crashed and burned and left Daisy moping around for the rest of her freshman year while Jemma went off and…became a crime boss, apparently.

It’s been six years since she last saw Jemma but Daisy figures that accomplishment is still something to be proud of.

Before the police had shooed her off, Daisy had been able to grab a few more valuable pieces of information from the guy in the back of the cop car. Jemma’s super-secret-crime-boss headquarters is apparently only a few blocks from where Daisy is currently studying the shadows on the ceiling and the fact that they somehow both managed to end up in the same city seems like the worst type of irony.

Not that Daisy knows what she would have done with this information if she had learned it _before_ the whole bank robbery thing…

Daisy exhales, scrubbing a hand across her face. It’s nearly three in the morning and she knows that she’s not going to be going to sleep any time soon. Not when she can’t stop thinking about Jemma and the last time they saw each other and how there’s still this weird twinge beneath her ribs when she thinks about Jemma and how terrible it had been to see her cry.

She knows the address…she could…

Which is ridiculous. What’s she supposed to do? Just go strolling up to this building and ask if Jemma can come out and play?

Though, Daisy figures, that’s exactly what she could do…

With a groan, Daisy throws back the blankets, getting out of bed and heading over to her closet. She tries not to pay too much attention to what she pulls off the hangers but she can’t help it, dressing in something that she hopes will be flattering and make her look like a total badass babe.

Not that that type of thing matters or anything.

It’s just, well, it’s not every day that you get the chance to cross paths with your ex-girlfriend who is possibly now a major crime boss.

Daisy slips slightly on the house, briefly debating about leaving a note for Mack in case all of this goes terribly wrong and she ends up dead. But she’s already cheated death once today, so she’s feeling unreasonably optimistic about her chances.

It doesn’t take her long to get to the address that the guy had given her and Daisy stands, debating for a moment, letting her breath plume in front of her in the cold chill of the night air. She could turn around and go home, write all of this off as utter weirdness and not think about it anymore.

But Daisy knows that if she were going to do that, she never would have come here in the first place.

The warehouse looks deserted, not even the faintest glow emanating from the fractured or broken windows. In the distance, Daisy can hear the sounds of the barges moored by the docks, the sounds of the water lapping against their hulls.

She doesn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it’s nearly too late and when Daisy turns around, she finds herself facing down a gun for the second time that day. Her hands shoot up quickly and she swallows. “Don’t shoot?” She says hopefully. “I’m just here to see Jemma.”

The guy gives her the once over, his eyes lingering briefly on her face. She can see recognition flicker there and it’s equally as disconcerting as it had been earlier that day to realize that there’s a group of criminals who are intimately acquainted with her features. 

“She’s not expecting you,” he says finally, though he lowers his gun.

Daisy takes that as a cue to lower her own hands. “No,” she says with the shake of her head. “But I kinda feel like she’ll make an exception.”

The guy seems to agree, because he turns, motioning for Daisy to follow along behind him.

The inside of the warehouse looks absolutely nothing like the outside would have suggested. There are a half dozen people milling out, a miniature arsenal spread out of the tables around them. There’s a huge bank of computer monitors, each one showing different angles of the outside world, and the corners and crannies inside the warehouse as well. There’s a flat screen TV currently playing the news on mute and two guys sitting around on beanbags, takeout containers on the floor between them, watching a report about Russia.

But Daisy can’t help but notice the other things, the fixtures and elements that look like they just walked out of the high school chemistry lab. Or, at least, the lab of a very wealthy and privileged high school. Jemma had spent the majority of her time in their school’s chemistry lab, playing around with the burners and beakers, the plastic goggles leaving red indentions on the sides of her nose. The stuff Daisy sees now on the tables in front of her look far more advanced than anything she ever saw Jemma toying around with, though the sight of the things here, now, is exactly what it takes for Daisy to truly believe that she’s about to find Jemma in the middle of this warehouse.

The guard brings Daisy down a hallway and toward one of the backrooms and Daisy can hear the sound of a voice from behind the closed door. One that she recognizes well. And honestly, she’s not at all surprised because if Jemma was going to decide to take over the world then there would be one person she’d want there beside her.

After a brief moment of hesitation, the guard knocks on the door and then steps back. He gives Daisy a sympathetic look. “Good luck.”

The door swings open and Daisy finds herself face to face with the owner of the voice she’d just heard. “What?” Fitz snaps seconds before his eyes get wide and his expression become almost comical in its surprise.

Daisy smiles at him, lifting her hand in a lame attempt at a wave. “Hey Fitz.”

“Who is it?”

The voice coming from behind Fitz is one that Daisy would recognize anywhere, after any amount of time. It’s the voice that she’s heard over and over again, the voice that teased her during tutoring sessions, that whispered in her ear in between kisses, a voice that Daisy could listen to forever, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Jemma’s voice hasn’t changed at all since the last time Daisy heard it.

Fitz just steps out of the doorway and Daisy takes that as her cue. She steps into the room, her eyes immediately falling on Jemma, sitting at a desk piled with papers, a mug of tea beside her elbow. It nearly makes her smile. Some things never change.

“Daisy,” Jemma breathes her name and Daisy feels her heart tighten in her chest, suddenly finds it harder to breathe.

She shouldn’t care so much. She shouldn’t let the sound of Jemma saying her name have this effect on her. And yet…she can’t help it. She wants to hear Jemma say her name over and over again, in every context, and never go another day without hearing her name spoken by Jemma.

Daisy is only slightly annoyed by this, mostly because it clearly means that Mack is right and that she hasn’t really gotten over Jemma after all.

Damn it. She hates when Mack is right.

Daisy manages a smile. “You don’t look that surprised.”

Jemma studies her for a moment, so Daisy feels like it’s only right to return the favor. Jemma has changed in a lot of ways: hair longer, straighter, her features shaper and more defined. Her eyes look more weathered than they were the last time Daisy saw them, when she would have just been an inquisitive college student. Daisy figures that becoming a crime boss of some caliber might add a few shadows to someone’s face.

“I heard what happened earlier today,” Jemma says finally. “I thought you might…I wondered…” She trails off, clearing her throat. “Fitz, would you mind…”

Fitz quickly shakes his head, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll just…make some more tea.” He’s quick to leave, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Daisy looks back toward Jemma and wonders how six years can feel both like six minutes and sixty years at the same time.

“So…you’re…” Daisy gestures around them, at the easy comfort of the room with its security monitors and its comfortable furniture and the bag on the floor at Jemma’s feet that has a couple bills poking out the top. “Whatever this is.”

Jemma smirks, leaning back in her seat. “I…wouldn’t exactly have picked this for my first career opportunity,” she admits.

“And what is this, exactly?” Daisy presses again, because it suddenly feels really important to have Jemma explain all of this. “Because I’ve had a really long day and I’m not really sure I can handle any more vague answers right now.”

Jemma’s smile is soft, almost apologetic, as she gets to her feet. “Let’s take a walk.”

Daisy lifts her eyebrows. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I’ll protect you,” Jemma assures her.

Daisy scoffs. “That’s totally not what I’m afraid of,” she assures her quickly.

Jemma smiles at her, opening the door to her office and looking at Daisy expectantly.

So of course she goes with her. Because why would she not?

The guards standing around in the main part of the warehouse look anxious to see Jemma leave without them but they don’t argue when she tells them to stand down and that she’ll be back soon.

Daisy is pretty sure that her surprise is evident on her face. “Okay, seriously. When did this happen?” She presses. “You’re like…you have henchmen now? You’re robbing banks? They listen to you?”

Jemma gives Daisy a look. “People have always listened to me,” she points out.

This isn’t exactly something that Daisy can argue with. When they first met as freshmen in high school, Daisy was in the principal’s office for fighting and Jemma was there enrolling as a new student. Daisy had taken one look at her and decided that she didn’t really want to look at anyone else for the rest of her life…or at least for the rest of freshmen year.

Jemma had been quiet, smart, but assertive in her own way and more than capable of handling a caustic girl who wore too much eyeliner and who made a game of getting kicked out of any foster home she was put into.

“Yeah, but, now you have, like, people robbing banks for you?” Daisy presses. “You’re robbing banks now.”

“Only when I have to,” Jemma says with a shake of her head. “I know how that sounds but…scientific exploration can get quite expensive.”

Daisy exhales, scoffing. “So that’s the point of all this? You became a crime boss to get money to fund your experiments? Why not just another company to hire you or something?”

“Because it’s nice not to have to answer to anyone,” Jemma says simply. “Because there are things that we can do and learn and accomplish that people are afraid to invest in, afraid to try. I just couldn’t let myself be held back anymore.”

Daisy looks at her, at this person that she used to know so well, and tries to decide if she’s really all that surprised to learn that this is somehow where Jemma ended up. “You always did have an interesting philosophy on right and wrong.”

Jemma shrugs. “The world is made up of moral complexities,” she points out.

“Well you might want to get better henchmen,” Daisy remarks. “The people you have working for you right now are kinda assholes.”

Jemma eyes narrow slightly. “Most of the people on the job today were not people I often trust to work for me,” she assures Daisy. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Daisy hesitates for a minute before asking, “How did you know I was going to be there?”

“I didn’t,” Jemma tells her quickly. “If I had known…I wouldn’t have…”

“But they knew me,” Daisy points out. “Why did they know me?”

Jemma looks at Daisy, her eyes searching her face. “I’ve made sure that everyone I work with knows you. And Mack, Elena, our friends from…before. I didn’t want anything to happen to you…on the off chance that…I just wanted you to be safe.”

It’s hard to swallow around the tightness in Daisy’s throat and she’s really getting annoyed with that occurrence. But it’s kinda common around Jemma, which is unfortunate, because as hard as it was to breathe and think straight around Jemma before, it’s even harder now that she’s seeing her for the first time in six years. “Oh.”

“I am sorry, Daisy,” Jemma says, reaching for her hand. Daisy is surprised by the sudden touch but it doesn’t occur to her to pull away. “It was a bad coincidence.”

Daisy bites her lip before lifting her eyes toward Jemma. “Maybe not _that_ bad…”

In the darkness, Daisy can only just barely make out of the smile on Jemma’s face, the soft turning up of her lips that makes her feel like she’s sixteen years old again and falling in love for the first time.

For the only time, if she’s being completely honest.

“So, why were you there, today?” Jemma asks after a beat, her tone conversational and curious.

Daisy groans, rolling her eyes. “I had a meeting with a loan guy,” she grumbles. “I’m trying to buy a building to turn into a group home for girls and now I totally have to reschedule that meeting so thanks for that.”

Jemma smiles at her and Daisy shifts uncomfortable, raising an eyebrow. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jemma shrugs. “No particular reason,” she assures Daisy. “I’m just not surprised that’s what you’ve decided to do.”

A warmth spreads through Daisy’s chest, pooling in her stomach, along with the butterflies that she feels flapping away. She tries to push the feeling away, tries to ignore what it means.

“I think I’m probably the only one who has the right to be surprised right now,” Daisy points out.

But it feels nice to be with Jemma again, normal, natural. The whole crime syndicate thing notwithstanding.

 

* * *

 

The following day, everything about yesterday feels like a dream. Daisy feels like she’s sleepwalking through her shift at work, rubbing the grit from her eyes and trying to figure out if the whole thing with Jemma actually happened.

It feels almost too much like a dream to even consider.

Did she really sneak out of her apartment in the middle of the night and spend an hour wandering, hand-in-hand, with her ex-girlfriend down by the wharfs? And is her aforementioned ex-girlfriend really the leader of an impressive crime syndicate?

Daisy thinks that, more than anything, is what lends the whole thing its dream-like quality.

But still, the butterflies in her stomach, the hazy, pleasant feeling in her chest, makes Daisy feel like everything was real after all. Because only Jemma has the power to make her feel that way.

When Daisy gets home, all she wants is to flop down on her bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours and hope that when she wakes up again she’ll be more equipped to deal with everything.

As soon as she opens her bedroom door, she can feel that something is off. The air feels…disturbed, changed. The window is open a crack, which Daisy knows for a fact she is not responsible for.

And there, sitting on the middle of her bed, is a bag.

The one she noticed last night, sitting on Jemma’s office in the warehouse.

Daisy steps toward the bag cautiously, trying to stamp down her curiosity. Her heart feels like it falls down to her feet when she opens the bag and sees a pile of money waiting inside, stacks and stacks of bills bundled up neatly together.

Thankfully, she thinks, it’s not actually scientifically possible for someone’s eyes to pop out of their head.

Resting at the top of the pile is a note and Daisy recognizes Jemma’s perfect handwriting right away. Somewhere she still has all the notes and letters that Jemma had written to her years ago, though she’ll definitely deny it if anyone were to ask.

_I hope this helps_ , the note reads, _those kids need you_. There’s no signature, not that Daisy needs one. Just a heart, drawn down at the bottom.

Daisy grins, though she has to admit her reaction has more to do with the heart than the money sitting on her bed.

She just might have to pay another visit to Jemma’s super secret headquarters.

Just to say thank you, of course.

It’s totally the right thing to do when your ex-girlfriend ends up being the head of a crime organization.


End file.
